


Just Tryin to Find Home

by Cities_In_Dust



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Also Crowley has a guitar, Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), But really it's just angsty fluff, Confused Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Prompt Fill, i hope i did this right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22585627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cities_In_Dust/pseuds/Cities_In_Dust
Summary: Prompt fill: "A Concept: 90s Crowley with man bun, velvet choker, tight tank and big jeans, singing and playing “What If God Was One of Us” on acoustic guitar in tube stations."Aziraphale should have received their agreed-upon, short note that Things Were Getting Bad Again weeks ago. Yet as the Angel was giving them their space, or whatever they were doing, Crowley slowly drifted.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: The End of the Line





	Just Tryin to Find Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @englandwldfall for the prompt, and the invitation to contribute.
> 
> I hope I'm doing this right.

They knew, they were sure of it, they just didn’t remember… Her. Trying to recall Her in their present form was much like trying to breathe underwater without gills, but sometimes Crowley’s brain fell in. They were now in the midst of such a “funk”, which sometimes lasted for months. One time it was years, but that time almost ended them. Aziraphale should have received their agreed-upon, short note that Things Were Getting Bad Again weeks ago. Yet as the Angel was giving them their space, or whatever they were doing, Crowley slowly drifted.

Aeons bereft of Time and thousands of years old, Anthony J. Crowley stared straight into the sun.

And why not? It wasn’t any different than Her, they were so sure. At least, they thought. They had never felt this disconnected before, even in the other times they did.

Crowley's standing place on the city trolley returned into focus at its own leisure. Humans surrounded them, mostly ignoring each other, or entertaining a small one. That one, they thought, that little one could be Her. Anyone on this damn trolley, really. They gazed about the cab, drunkenly taking everyone in.

Why would this ridiculous idea be true, they thought; but Crowley needed answers, other than “they were just an old idiot”. Humans prayed all the time, in good faith, whatever the heaven that was good for. Crowley wouldn’t be caught discorporated praying to God, no matter how they felt inside, so they summoned an acoustic guitar. It would have to do.

The late afternoon sun washed the cab in gold as Crowley started picking and strumming, “What If God Was One of Us”, humming along. Most humans on the planet knew this song by now, even though it hadn’t been out for a while yet. Some of them looked Crowley’s way, as they played unabashedly.

They weren’t sure how, but the scene became so much… more. Crowley was able to finish their piece to some satisfaction. When the trolley came up to the next platform, people started getting up and moving. Crowley looked out the window only to see that Aziraphale was blocking the view of the sun. Ah, that’s why everything started to make sense. The Angel’s mere presence wove harmony into the atmosphere. It was just how… well, how Angels were supposed to be, anyway.

“I’ve been looking for you, dear,” Aziraphale smiled softly, encouragingly.

“Angel…” Crowley handed their guitar to a nearby kid in a leather jacket, and gathered their partner in their arms. The sun nearly blinded them again, but this time was different— this time, Crowley couldn’t tell it and their Angel apart. They started crying, and soon in earnest.

“It’s alright, love. It’s going to be alright.” The Angel rubbed their back in slight movements, as they held each other silently against the window.

Both of them stayed on the trolley as it reached the end of the city line. After then, it turned back. Just a few stops before the center station, they hopped off to walk home in the breeze.

Wine and food were waiting there, where they gratefully indulged themselves in the feast.

Then Crowley summoned a new guitar, and started playing.

.Fin.


End file.
